Slow Dance
by Fictionista 48
Summary: What's meant to be, can't be stopped.


**Okay, I know I said after the completion of Aftershocks, that I was leaving fanfiction, but someone I love was feeling down, and had a rough day. It isn't much, but this is my attempt to put a smile on her sweet face. If you haven't read Celia Stanton's NCISLA fics, you're missing out on pure brilliance. Effie, I love you. You're the best.**

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This isn't the first time he's seen his partner dance. They have, after all, gone undercover in at least a half a dozen nightclubs during their partnership. They've gone out on the town as a team at the end of a rough case to cut loose, and dancing was definitely involved. It is, however, the first time he's seen her dance like this. She's in the arms of some tall guy with dark hair. Someone Deeks has never seen before. Actually, this is a version of _Kensi_ he's never seen before.

He hadn't expected to see her at all tonight. They'd gone their separate ways after work, done for the week, ready to begin the weekend. He'd grabbed a burger and gone surfing, letting the stresses of the workweek slide off of him in the sanctuary of the water. It wasn't until he got home that he decided to go out for a drink, and maybe dance with a few hot girls. He'd rather it be his partner, but that doesn't seem likely to ever happen, so he figured he'd go with the next best thing. Which, in reality, isn't even close. Kensi is in a league all her own, and she's on his mind far more often than she should be.

He's seen her flirt before. He's seen her work a suspect, using her body and her looks to get what she wants. He's seen her do it with him. But watching her laugh and smile at someone other than himself or a suspect feels strange. It feels…wrong. His brow furrows as he observes the situation. She's clearly happy to be out with this man. She's obviously enjoying his company. His hands haven't wandered anywhere south of her waist, or north of it, for that matter. A fact that should make Deeks relax. She's a grown woman, after all, and tougher and more badass than most men he knows. Still, he watches, waiting for the first misstep. Wishing - although he'd never admit it – that it was him in her arms.

"You _could _ask her to dance. You're hot. She'd probably say yes." A ridiculously gorgeous woman, blonde with green eyes, smiles at him, looking amused.

"Um….yeah, no….we're…she's a friend of mine. I'm just keeping an eye on her." He smiles. "She tends to attract serial killers."

"Yeah? So you're going to save her from said serial killers?"

He shrugs. "Well, you know…someone's gotta do it."

The woman looks out on Kensi and her date. "So, you're here together, or no?"

"Um, no. Not really. At all." He's stammering like an imbecile.

"So you're stalking her."

"No! No, I'm…I'm just looking out for her. She's my best friend. I just…you know…want to keep her safe. From the serial killers and axe murderers she finds so attractive." He gives her his most charming smile.

"Best friend. Best friend like, _I wanna throw you down and do you_, or best friend like _You're a sister to me_?"

"Sister. Definitely sister."

"Really? Because if you look at your sister like that anywhere besides maybe Appalachia or Arkansas, you'll probably be shunned by society. And possibly locked up."

He laughs. "Wow. You're awesome. What's your name?"

"Clairee."

"Even better. I'm Marty."

"_We_ could dance, Marty. I mean, I'm not your sister, but it might be fun," she says, nudging him playfully.

"Um…you know, that sounds great, but…"

"But she's way too hot to really think of as your sister?"

He smiles, knowing he's busted. "Something like that."

She shrugs and takes his cell out of his hand. "What's meant to be, can't be stopped. But, if you change your mind…" She enters her number into his phone and hands it back with a smile. "You'll know how to find me." She winks at him and walks off, swaying with the music.

He watches her go, watches the sway of her hips, and then glances back to Kensi, smiling up at her date. He wonders if he just made a huge mistake. He looks back down at his phone and swallows. At least he has her number. He's pretty sure he won't forget her name. The fact that she knows how he obviously feels about Kensi, and isn't the least bit turned off by it tells him she's not looking for commitment, but only a good time. Something he could use right now. And exactly what he came here for. He looks back up, staring out into the crowd. Kensi is laughing at something her date just said. Really laughing. Like she means it. Her eyes sparkle when she means it. He turns and stares after Clairee.

She isn't what he wants. Not really. What he wants is out on that dance floor, nuzzling her cheek against some other guy's neck, sliding her arms around him. He watches her, feeling his heart ache and fill with jealousy as she whispers something. It's surprising how much this hurts. It's not like he's ever really expected anything other than friendship from her. Partnership. And yet, the sight of her dancing with some random, anonymous guy causes something uncomfortable to rise in his chest. And that something is jealousy.

He can't take it anymore. He needs another drink. Something stronger than the beer he just finished off without realizing it. Probably not the smartest idea, but it might dull the ache. He goes to the bar, smiling at women who smile at him, putting on a face much happier than he feels right now. He orders a drink and stands at the edge of the bar, sipping it. He tries to keep himself from looking out into the crowd for her. He does his best to feel the beat of the music and distract himself with it. More than one woman asks him to dance, but he politely declines. Clairee walks by and runs her hand down his arm, smiling seductively at him as she passes. He wishes he wanted her.

It takes less than ten minutes to empty his glass, and he orders another. To hell with it. What's the worst that could happen? He gets into a fight? He gets laid? He has to call a cab to get home? Any or all of the above would be fine. At least he wouldn't be thinking of Kensi. Or would he?

Somehow, he's gravitated to the edge of the dance floor. He involuntarily scans the pulsating crowd for her, attempting to discern her backless, deep green dress in the crowd. He squints against the colored lights, pursing his lips as he concentrates. He can't see her. She isn't out there. _God, did she leave? Did she really go home with that guy?_ A sick feeling creeps into his gut. The last thing on earth he wants to imagine is Kensi sleeping with another man. The punch that particular mental image packs nearly takes him out right there. He swallows down nausea and turns to head for the exit, when he almost steps on her.

"Stalking me?" she asks, eyebrows raised.

He can't believe she's standing here in front of him, staring up at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. A wave of relief washes over him, paired with embarrassment at being caught.

"Well?"

"No. No, I uh…came here for a drink, you know. Just like you did, I assume. Right?"

She smiles, either deciding to let him off the hook, or deciding to take mercy on him. "You gonna ask me to dance?"

He smiles back, genuinely relieved, but trying not to show it. "You're here alone?"

She nods, taking the glass from his hand and downing the last of it. She sets it on a nearby table and grabs his arm. "C'mon. Let's dance."

The music is fast and pulsing, not exactly what he'd envisioned dancing to with Kensi. He'd prefer it to be slower. Much slower. At this point, though, he'll take what he can get. She's an incredible dancer. This isn't new knowledge, but it's always somehow a surprise. She's normally pretty restrained and high strung. Tightly wound. But on the dance floor, she's a different being.

After two songs, God apparently hears his prayers, and the music slows. He wonders if she'll turn and head for the bar, or let him take her into his arms. He prays fervently for the latter. She stares at him for a moment before reaching for him, looping her arms around his neck. There's no hesitation, no awkward moment of consideration. It just happens.

At first, he holds her loosely, tentatively, not wanting to cross any borders. But as they dance, she eases into him, and her body comes flush against his. He feels her breath on his neck, and his pulse increases. He pulls her closer, breathing in the fragrance of her hot, damp skin, and the soft, sexy perfume barely left clinging to it. His eyes close, and he relaxes against her, dropping his head to nuzzle against her neck. Her scent is intoxicating.

She draws away just far enough to look up at him from beneath her dark lashes. To gaze into his eyes, with hers a smoldering, deep umber. She doesn't smile. Her lips are parted slightly, her skin glowing in the dusky, rose-colored light. He watches her sway in his arms, watches the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. He lets his hands skim down her back and come to rest just above the swell of her hips. He links his fingers there and holds her, wishing he could see her thoughts. She catches her lower lip between her teeth, as if contemplating something, before giving him a soft smile, and bringing her head back against his shoulder. This is easily the closest they've ever been, either on duty or off, and he knows that regardless of what happens the rest of the night, he'll cherish this memory and revisit it often.

The song ends, and by some miracle, yet another slow one begins. He feels her tighten her arms around his neck, and he responds in kind, wrapping her within his embrace. They sway gently with the music, like willows in the breeze, barely moving at all. _Is she as caught up in this as I am? Is it even possible?_ God, he hopes so. He dips his head, his lips dangerously, tantalizingly close to her neck. He breathes against it, and swears he feels her tremble. He runs his fingertips up the curve of her spine and back down, relishing the feel of her warm skin.

As the music plays on, he feels her fingertips dance softly across the back of his neck, threading into the hair above his collar, gently exploring the curly strands. Her touch is teasingly tentative, and it sends tremors clear to his feet. He can't help it. He can't stop himself. He allows his lips to drift over her skin, not quite kissing the slope of her neck, but slowly brushing them against her pulse point, gauging her response. He feels her breath rush out against his shoulder, heating his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Her fingertips sink into the flesh at the back of his neck, and he thinks he hears her whimper.

She draws back, gazing up at him with eyes filled with both passion and surprise. She bites her lip, clearly torn. He stares at her, then strokes a strand of damp hair from her forehead, letting his fingertips skim her cheek, slowly slipping to the back of her neck. He never breaks his gaze, but he hesitates, giving her a moment to process. A moment to decline and put distance between them if necessary.

_God, she's beautiful_. Not just sexy, not just hot. She's beautiful. She's everything he's ever wanted, and things he's never imagined. She's sunshine and lightening, softness and thunder, fury and passion. She's strong and independent, smart and self-assured. But more than all that, right now, she's soft and feminine, and her body is pressed so close to his, he can feel her every curve.

She sucks slightly at her lower lip before giving him a soft smile, and reaching to skim her fingertips over his cheek, then back into his hair. Her eyes drift shut as she closes the small space between them, reaching up for him. He feels his heart threaten to run away with him as his lips meet hers, haltingly, slowly, testing the waters between them. She doesn't hesitate. She kisses him. And it's everything he's ever dreamed it would be. Her lips part and his tongue finds hers, engaging in a soft dance of their own. She tastes like summer, sweet and intoxicating, and he revels in the feel of her, lost in him, holding onto him, breathing his breath, trembling slightly in his arms.

He never wants this to end. He doesn't want to be forced to release her and watch her walk away. He thinks he could stay this way forever. Is there anything he could possibly need more? The music changes, fading from the soft, slow beat, to a frenzied, rhythmic madness. She draws back and looks up into his eyes, and he sees an answer to his every question. _No, she isn't sorry. Yes, she wants this as badly as he does. And yes, she feels something beyond simple friendship. Far beyond_. She catches his hand and leads him off the dance floor. He realizes a moment later, that she's leading him toward the door. Clairee nods at him from near the bar, and gives him a knowing smile. _What's meant to be, can't be stopped. _He smiles back, and follows Kensi out of the bar.

In the parking lot, he lets her lead him to her car, and she leans back against it. He takes her into his arms, pressing her back against the door, and brings his lips to hers. He kisses her deeply, his breath becoming ragged, his hands aching to roam across her body.

She pulls back just a bit, and gazes up at him. "I'm not going to sleep with you."

His eyebrows rise. "_Ever?_"

She chuckles, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "Anytime soon." She stares up at him with a soft smile playing over her features. "I want to go slowly. I want to give this," she motions between them, "whatever_ this_ is, a chance. The chance it deserves."

He gives her a gentle smile, and nods. "Okay." He dips his head and captures her lips, and feels her arms tighten around him. A few moments later, she untangles herself from him and takes his hand in hers, smiling up at him with unspoken promise. Where this is going, he isn't sure. Wherever it is, though, it surely won't be easy. Nothing between them ever is. But that doesn't matter. All that matters is her hand in his, and the look in her eyes as she smiles at him.


End file.
